Letters From You
by FluffyNargles
Summary: A series of letters to and from the many Harry Potter characters, throughout all of the books, before and after the epilogue.
1. Chapter 1: Dear Ronnie, Love Mum

_(Written on a price of creased parchment in a steady hand, delivered by Errol, who crashed into the porridge, an acceptable explanation for the many food stains.)_

1994

Dear Ronnie,

You left your sweater at home again, dear. You know, the nice maroon one I knitted for you last Christmas? I know how much you love that sweater, dear, so don't you worry! I'm sending it with a batch of my homemade fudge.

Tell Harry and Hermione I said hello, won't you, and give them both a nice big hug from me. They're such nice children...

By the way, dear, Ginny told me about your little spat with Hermione, and I am severly disappinted in your actions, Ronald. Now, I want you to try and work things out with Hermione. I'm sure she feels perfectly awful about Scabbers. And, remember, it's not as if she can control her cat's actions. Animals will be just that — animals. There's no helping that.

Tell Percy to take a break from his studies to find the time to write me a letter. (I'm so proud of him - another Head Boy in the family!) I know he's busy, but surely he can find the time to write to his mother?

And tell Fred and George that unless they want to be deprived of their own box of fudge, they need to stop getting so many detentions! If I get one more owl from your Head of House, I swear...! Give them my love, Ron, dear.

You'll look after your sister, won't you, Ronnie? She's still a bit off after the whole Chamber incident last year. Ginny needs her big brothers - all of them - more than she wants to admit.

With all my love,

Mum

P.S. — Be sure that Harry gets some of the fudge, dear. He was looking a bit peaky when I saw you lot off to the train... And do try not to get into so much trouble this year, dear. I'm going gray far too early.


	2. Chapter 2: Dear Harry, Love Ginny

_(Written on a price of light pink parchment, stolen from Hermione, and delivered by a school owl, who managed to deliver it without incident. There's fingerprints and the parchment is worn from being opened and refolded too many times.)_

September 1998

Dear Harry,

I miss you much more than I ever thought possible. It's absolute misery being away from you. I'm in half a mind to go barging into Professor McGonagall's office and demand to use her floo. I'm going crazy without you, Harry.

I'm in the library, with Hermione. That's the only time I come here, if I'm honest — when Hermione gives me that 'look' (you know the one I'm talking about) and carts me off. I know she's just trying to help, but blimey! How'd you and Ron stand it?! I mean seriously, it's only September and Hermione's already acting like a crazed baboon.

Tell Ron to send that poor girl a love letter. She needs it, believe me. She's giving me one of her death glares as I write this, but the edge is taken off considerably, seeing as she has a bright blue streak of ink covering half of her face. I charmed this parchment to look like my potions essay. I can tell she senses that something is up, because she kept throwing more of her 'looks' over at me, before I finally got sick of it. You should have seen her when I accused her of copying my work! It was like Malfoy had just run by naked carrying a dead Crookshanks... Okay, now that I'm re-reading that, it doesn't seem like the best example.

Quidditch is going really well. Dean and Demelza are back as my other chasers, as well as Peakes and Coote for beaters, and I chose this third year girl, Fran, to be seeker. She's got nothing on you, but she's decent. I also recruited this scrawny kid named Steven to be Keeper. He's a fifth year, and again, is decent. I think we'll do okay in the match against Ravenclaw. I wish you could be here, Hogwarts doesn't feel quite right without you.

Well, stay safe (I know thats pretty much impossible for you, Potter, but there's no harm is asking, right?) and remember to get some sleep! I don't like that you spend so many hours over at the Auror Department. It can't be healthy for you. I know Kingsley already got an earful from Mum, but if _(so help me, Harry Potter) _you aren't healthy and rested when I see you next, I will personally march down there and introduce him and that idiot of a Department Head, Robards, to my bat-bogey hex!

I love you so much, Harry.

Always,

xxx Ginny


	3. Chapter 3: Dear Fred, Love George

_(Written on a crumpled up scrap of parchment found in George's dress robes. Stained with tears and crumpled back up, never to be read again.) _

May 1998

Dear Fred,

It's strange, thinking that I'll never see you again. Of course, everyone tells me that it's not true and that I'll be with you again one day, but I can't help but feel like it's a lie. Or at least, it's too far away for me to consider it a possibility.

I remember how the night when we rescued Harry from the Dursley's — the night I became holy (it's still not funny, is it?) — and how we promised. We each said that if the other died during this war that we'd move on — go on to fight and eventually, when we won the war and Old Moldie-Shorts was rotting in his grave (your words not mine), live life to the fullest, full of laughter and pranks on unsuspecting family members.

But this is hard, Fred. Harder than you made it sound. I didn't think you were going to die, Fred. I didn't think it would be you. If anyone, it would have been me. You were always smarter, the cleverer one of the two of us. It wasn't supposed to end this way.

I see Mum and Dad crying and Percy (the git) staring blankly at his perfectly shined shoes. Bill isn't responsive and Fleur is hiccuping like mad. It's starting to get really annoying. Charlie is looking everywhere else but at me. Harry and Ginny are sitting, wrapped up in each other, and I can say the same for Ron and Hermione. I know this is hard on them, too. But they'll eventually get over it. Time will go on, and they will too. But I won't, Fred. I don't know what will happen to me now. There's no more Gred and Forge. So who am I? Just George? It doesn't sound right. It shouldn't be this way. You should still be here.

Right now, we should be slipping Percy one of our new products, getting our revenge on him for being a world-class git. Harry and Ron shouldn't be crying silently, but should be engaged in a chess match, even though everyone would know the eventual outcome, their girlfriends should be cheering them on anyway. Bill and Fleur should be acting all horny and disgusting in the corner and Charlie should be taking the Mickey out of them both. Dad should be out tinkering in his shed full of Muggle thingy-ma-jiggers and Mum should be making a whole feast worthy of kings.

But, instead we're here.

At your funeral.

I miss you, Fred. It'll never be the same without you.

Love, your brother,

George

A/N: Did you like it? I know, this one was especially hard for me to write! Fred was one of my favorite characters, but I think JKR was incredibly realistic to write his death. Nothing turns out the way we want it to in life... Leave a review, please, it'd mean the world to me!


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